Five Hours
by frickangel
Summary: Under the Vegas black skies, Sara reveals to Greg exactly why she came back. Established GSR with lingering touches of what-could've-been-SaraGreg, and Riley presents a possibility. OneShot.


**Title**: Five Hours

**Fandom**: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

**Author**: frickangel { frickangel[dot]livejournal[dot]com }

**Pairing**: Implied GSR, lingering touches of what-could've-been-Sandle, and something more.

**Spoilers/Time line**: Season 10; post 'Bloodsport'. Spoilers for Season 1 – 9.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own. Don't know. Don't I wish.

**Summary**: Time flies faster than one can imagine, especially when you know the one you loved has found love—only it's with someone else. [OneShot]

**A/N**: The canon world has spoken and it's officially GSR, but my heart still holds a flame for Sandle and I'm pretty sure Greg does, too. Still, it's time to put a little closure to this 'ship and I thought I'd give it a proper one. Did you hear that? It's the sound of my heart breaking after all those years of cheering on for Sandle.

Beta'd by the amazing Nyx Russia.

* * *

_I'm standing on the bridge;_

_I'm waiting in the dark;_

_I thought that you'd be here by now._

* * *

Life in California was simple.

Somehow, the sun was brighter and warmer there, people smiled with absolute sincerity that was always laced with a cheerful laugh. And then there was the ocean: a whole world of wide open skies that held beneath it a clear pool of diamonds that seem to never end.

To a boy of eight, it was heaven on earth.

But he wasn't a boy anymore, and he wasn't eight.

He was a grown man now; having tasted the bitterness and pain of this grotesque world, knowing that it was far more than just candy canes and lollipops. Still, the boy in him yearned for the sticky, salty air and the rich chorus of crashing waves.

Maybe that was why he was standing here now, on the shore of the lake that two people had lost their lives to. Barely 12 hours ago, he was sifting through the remains of the twisted metal and helped bring justice to an unknown woman. The cruelty of the world was cemented when they discovered the woman was just a girl, that a boy lost his life for being her saviour, and a man lived for being the coward he is, hiding behind the integrity of a leader.

Five hours.

That's how long it would take to drive the whole way back to California.

If he started now, he'd make it there by late-morning, and he could dip his feet into the cool sea water and feel the gritty sand between his toes. There really was nothing to stop him and if anything, living in Vegas only proved the fact that staying will only hurt him more, both emotionally and physically.

The cold wind picked up and the chill sliced through the protection of the standard CSI parka. He winced absent-mindedly as the ache in his shoulder continued to throb—a souvenir from Pig and his gang.

The keys to the Denali felt cold in his hands.

"Greg?"

For a moment, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the dark pool of water, allowing his shoulders to shrug once before finally turning around.

But there was something holding him back.

"Sara," he smiled slightly as he made out the silhouette that was making its way towards him. Looking down at his feet, Greg stuffed the keys deeper into the pocket of his jeans before looking at her again.

Her boots made a scratching sound as she moved from the grassy area to the rough sand. "Thought you might be here."

"And how did you figure that out?" he asked curiously and flashed a small grin.

"Oh, you know..." she took her place next to him and looked out at the lake as he once had. She glanced at him again and for a while there Greg was half expecting her to reply with a witty remark to make fun of him. Her face softened and she dipped her head a little, "You hadn't clocked out, your car was still in the car park, and your Denali was gone."

"Which still doesn't tell you where I went, just that I wasn't home," he countered.

"Ah," she smiled slightly, "but I mentored you for three years, Greg. When a case hits home with you, you're normally back to where it started."

He studied her expression for a while, wondering if there was any sarcasm in her remark.

He found none.

"Right," he nodded.

Unsure of what to do, he continued to contemplate on that five hour trip and tried to think... about something. His mind couldn't capture the train of thought any longer; it was slipping away leaving only a lingering echo of what he had been reflecting upon.

"How's Grissom?" he could only think of one thing to break the uncomfortable silence.

For a split second, there was a flash of surprise as though she hadn't expected such a question from him. "He's... good," she answered, picking her words carefully.

Greg was unsure why she seemed guarded. Uncertain of how to reply, he said the first thing that popped in his head, "Good..."

"Busy," she interjected before he could finish. "But he's good. He's doing all these talks and lectures in Paris, so... yeah."

He opened his mouth to speak, found no words would come, licked his lips instead, and looked away. The lake was calming, its darkness enveloping all his unexplained burdens as he looked deeper into the never-ending depth. But no matter how lost he was in the unknown, Greg's brain refused to stop as it raced to solve the mystery of his troubles.

The last few years flashed by as he flinched at every memory; the force of the explosion, the comfort of their concern, the disappointment in his failure, the celebration of his success, the pain of their fists and feet, and her touch.

Her touch that soothed him as he lay upon the hard road of despair.

_The Sidle scent._

"Why?"

She looked at him with expectation. Her frown deepened as he remained silent a little longer, unable to elaborate on his one-word question. "Why what, Greg?"

Strangely enough, he was asking himself the same thing. Just what was he trying to ask her?

"As in why did I just go?" she continued, this time not waiting for Greg. "Or why I married Grissom?"

It was his turn to frown, "No," he simply answered and allowed the wind to blow past them, lifting the dark strands of her hair and framing her face that was filled with confusion. It also gave him a chance to think and process his thoughts.

"Why did you come back?"

It had troubled him when he saw her figure amongst his colleagues, all of them exchanging smiles, giving her handshakes and pats on the back, asking the inevitable 'how's married life?'. For him, he refused the formality of a handshake but instead enveloped her into a hug that expressed just how much he missed her.

But it didn't erase the thought.

Why did she come back?

Sure, Ecklie had asked if she could recommend anybody to replace Riley, but it didn't mean _she_ was the one who had to come back. Not that he wasn't exhilarated to see her, to breathe in her Sidle scent once again, but she was supposed to be happy in Paris and cocooned in wedded bliss.

So… why?

Her lips parted as if to answer him back with anger, after all he had just questioned her reason for returning to Las Vegas. He had just challenged her fairytale life, maybe even suggested that there was a storm brewing in the horizon.

Only she didn't.

She set her mouth into a thin line without uttering an answer and turned back to the dark lake. The emotions that flickered across her face couldn't be read easily, but Greg could tell—it was sadness.

He stared at her for a while, watching as she watched the nothingness and finally leaving her alone. She would answer when she was ready.

He would wait.

"For you."

It was an answer that he was completely unprepared for, and those two words forced him down a rabbit hole of surprise.

"I came back for you, Greg."

The hole never seemed to end for him as he just kept falling deeper into the darkness. Was it a confession? Some sort of twisted joke that she had been dying to unleash on him?

"What?" he managed to whisper as he stared at her.

She merely looked on at the open waters, never flinching. Her sadness still remained.

"It's not funny, Sara."

"It wasn't?" her voice had fallen so softly that it was nearly lost in the noiseless thoughts that his mind was drowning in. "It seemed funny."

Only there was no laughter since there was nothing to laugh at.

"Funny that my mind would think I needed to come back," she ended the silence, "but it did." She finally turned to look at him, and he saw it in her eyes; it was the exact same thing they both were looking for.

"Closure," he answered for her.

"I think so…"

There was a bubble rising from within, and he was uncertain at first what it was until it surfaced and a sense of warmth spread through him. "What else could it be?" he said, the relief was stronger in his voice now.

Sara caught the emotion, and she stared at him for the longest time as if studying his reaction thoroughly. It was beginning to place doubts in his mind that his assumption was wrong and the relief was premature.

Until the corner of her lips lifted into a small grin, forming a smile that told him otherwise. "Greg Sanders," she breathed and laughed at the same time. There was something else in her eyes now.

"Yes, Sara Sidle?"

Happiness. That was what she had in her eyes. "Thank you."

He gave a soft low chuckle before bowing his head and shuffled his feet on the sandy ground, "Whatever for?"

"For being here."

"Where else would I be?"

"And for being you."

Their smiles were a matching pair as they settled into the familiar comforts of their friendship. Sure, she had abruptly left and Grissom followed suit not long after, and it left Greg feeling as if everyone had abandoned him.

But now, she was back for him.

"Who else would I be?" he posed his final question to her before glancing at the brightening sky. It seemed apt that dawn was breaking for them.

He felt her take a step closer before she stretched out her hand to him—a sort of invitation. Still smiling, but only faintly, she nodded at him.

He accepted it and pulled his own hand out from his parka. The chilly air greeted his skin, bringing an assault of goose bumps just before he wrapped his fingers around hers. Tightening his hold on her, he felt the smoothness of the wedding band that signified her happiness and a reminder to him that this was now reality.

With a soft squeeze of her hand, Sara pulled herself away gently and began to take backward steps to her car. "See you later tonight?" she asked and stopped midway in a step, her knee bent as she watched him for a reply through her windswept hair.

Five hours. California was only five hours away, and he could make it back in time for lunch with his mother.

"Yeah," the answer was definitive and it became a promise he couldn't break. "See you tonight," he waved at her as she finally turned around and returned to her journey back home.

Left alone in his meditative silence once more, he watched the remainder of the sunrise and glanced at the watch strapped to his wrist. If he couldn't make it back to his childhood home for lunch, the least he could have is breakfast with someone he wouldn't mind bothering at this godforsaken hour—godforsaken for any normal human being with a regular nine to five job.

After all, he knew she was awake and that she was back from the Midwest to tie up some loose ends here in Vegas. Before he could argue with himself about leaving her be, his fingers were already hitting the keypad to dial her number.

One ring. Two rings.

Three.

Maybe he was wrong?

"_Hey,"_

He found himself smiling at her voice, "Breakfast?"

She let out a small contemplative hum and he could hear paper being crushed, _"Pancakes?"_

"Sure."

"_You're buying."_

"Don't I always?"

She laughed, _"Give me 20 and I'll be ready."_

"Okay."

There was some rustling and he could imagine her thumbing the end button.

"Hey, Riley?"

He hoped he wasn't too late and that she heard him call out.

"_Yep?" _Apparently, she had.

Pressing his lips together, he shook his head as he thought about it. "Nothing. I'll see you later."

He imagined her nodding while cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, _"All right. Ciao."_

This time he ended the call before she did and slipped his cell back into his pocket while retrieving the car keys at the same time. Turning back to look at the bright sky, he relished the change in the wind as the morning sun began to work its magic on the temperature and bringing him some comfort.

With one deep breath, he smiled again and thought about hot pancakes and gooey maple syrup.

After all, twenty minutes was a whole lot better than five hours.

* * *

_Take me by the hand;_

_Take me somewhere new;_

_I don't know who you are;_

_But I'm with you._

* * *

The End.

Thanks for reading.

Comments and criticism are welcomed.


End file.
